


I'll Reach Out to You, But You Have To Reach Back

by Crazyaniknowit



Category: Zootopia
Genre: 1st person point of view, BACK FROM HIATUS!, F/M, I have no idea where I'm going with this, Judy is a Psychiatrist, Nick has savage tendencies, Nick is a mentally ill patient, POV Judy Hopps, POV Nick Wilde, Savage animals, This honestly just popped up in my head, asylum AU, inter species relationship, not a smutfic (surprisingly coming from me XD ), please excuse the short intro chapter, rated m to be safe, will be somewhat graphic violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:03:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyaniknowit/pseuds/Crazyaniknowit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judy Hopps is a psychiatrist, top of her class. And while she had a little trouble landing the job, she managed to grab herself a position at Sahara Central Specialist Hospital. </p><p>The only issue is that she may have bitten off more than she could chew. Her patient is a fox, he doesn't like anybody, and he especially doesn't like prey. </p><p>Cracking this nut is going to be harder than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going out on a limb and just writing this cause it popped into my head and I put way too much development into it just to leave it as an idea. Lol. 
> 
> Anywho, first Zootopia fic, also my first AU. And my first time delving so deeply into psyches. Oh boy.
> 
> Break Key:  
> Flashback  
> ~
> 
> Perspective Change  
> ~  
> •  
> ~
> 
> Scene Change  
> •  
> •

"We're so proud of you, Judy." 

I put my luggage down with a smile and turn to my parents, "Thanks, Mom." I say, glad for their undying support throughout my entire career. I've known my whole life that I wanted to help people, the only matter was how. I used to want to be a cop, but despite my best efforts, I was never accepted into the academy. 

So I turned to other methods, I didn't want to be a doctor, at least full-time that is. I know being a cop involves medical treatment sometimes, but that's just not my cup of tea as a 24/7 job. So I turned to other branches, the one I settled upon being a psychiatrist. 

That's not to say I haven't enjoyed my time in study, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I have an affinity for this line of work. The path to where I am now was difficult, up to a few nights ago, when the Sahara Central Specialist Hospital accepted my application for employment. A feat of which I think might not have happened if not for my aptitude in my class. 

That and my insistence. For some reason (I think it's the fact that I'm a rabbit), the three other psychiatric hospitals in Zootopia declined my applications. SCSH was well on it's way to doing the same, but they accepted me after a long, tiring phone call.

~

"I'm sorry, Miss Hopps, but we have no openings." 

"Then why does your website say you do?" I demand, rapping my foot against the floor in frustration. 

"I-well, Miss, the thing is-"

"Is it because I'm a rabbit?" I interrupt, and I press my paw to my forehead, growing tired of these games.

"No! No ma'am!" I can practically see the flustered receptionist on the other end of the line waving whatever appendages she might have. "It's nothing like that. It's just, our opening...the...the patient, he-"

"I can manage, I'm sure!" I feel bad for interrupting her again, but I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can handle whatever this patient may have in store for me.

"I..." she drawls, 

"Please?" I beg, clutching my phone so hard it might have broken if I were a stronger mammal. "I'm kind of desperate." 

The line is silent, and I fear she might have hung up on me...

"I'll put your application through. Expect a letter in a week. And I would purchase a train ticket." the receptionist sighs. 

I barely contain my gasp, grinning from ear to ear, "Thank you..." I breathe, my heart racing wildly in excitement.

"Congratulations." the receptionist says as she hangs up.

I clutch my phone to my chest and squeal with delight, jumping up and down like a kit on it's birthday. "I did it!"

~

I hug my parents, snuggling into the embrace with a sigh of contentment, "I love you guys." I whisper into my father's fur, kissing them both on their cheeks as I pull away. 

"Go on now, you'll miss the train." my dad is holding back tears, I can tell, and I chuckle as I nod in response.

"Oh Stu..." my mom sighs, patting him on the back. 

I board the train and head up to the stairs to the skylight, sitting down and pulling out my iPawd. "Zootopia, here I come." I smile, watching the landscape rush by. 

 

•  
•

 

I offer up a thanks to my part-time job during college. My apartment - while small - is nothing less than spectacular. At least it is for somebunny who's lived in the Burrows her whole life. It's a one-bedroom, one-bathroom, with a small kitchenette on the left upon immediate entry, and a ten-by-ten living room on the right. The bedroom is down a small hall, which has a coat closet, or pantry? I'm not really sure, it's so close to the kitchen. 

I put my suitcase down by the door, I'm glad I chose the pre-furnished apartment. While it's a little extra money, buying furniture is entirely out of my reach for now. But if my job pays as well as advertised, I'll soon be in a house, or a more elaborate apartment, whichever. Not as if I want either of those now, this is more than enough for me, and I have never had so much space all to myself. 

I look out the sliding glass doors on the opposite end of the living room, and I skirt the coffee table as I make my way to them. Three floors up offers a nice view of the ocean, the train track I arrived in on, and Savannah Central Specialist Hospital down by the water. It's a five minute walk from my apartment. 

Tomorrow morning I'll be there, working with my patient, helping people. Tomorrow I'll be making a change, and I cannot wait. 

 

~  
•  
~

 

It's involuntary when it happens, but every day, without fail, no matter the fact that I know who he is, I growl when he comes in. I don't know if it's the creaking of that damned door (which I think has never been oiled), or simply the smell of clean hospital that rushes into my room. He doesn't flinch like I always secretly hope he will, but rather sets my tray down where he always does, flashing me the typical, fake smile they all wear. 

"Dinner." he says, turning to leave, "Oh!" he pauses, turning to face me again, "You've got a doctor now, she'll be here tomorrow. You'd best try to behave if you want this one to be permanent."

The door closes with its usual bang, and my fur bristles at his implications. I know exactly what he means, it's the reason I can't go outside, and the reason why I hate muzzles. Luckily I don't need to wear one if I stay in my room. I've lost count of how many doctors have tried me, and I don't bother to remember the ones who left because I didn't change.

But I remember all of the doctors who left after a brush with my teeth or claws. I remember all their faces, and I remember the one, grueling detail for each one: they were all prey...

Now I'm getting another doctor, and she's coming tomorrow. I hope tomorrow never comes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy meets her patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I can live up to the expectations of my readers. That's a lot of attention overnight, lol.

"Here's your coat, and your I.D." the antelope (whose I.D. labels her as Tara) hands me my white doctor's coat, and I suppress my fifth squeal of delight today. I can't believe I am finally here!

"Thank you." I pull my arms through the sleeves, patting the cloth down over my dark blue, pencil skirt dress. I clip the I.D. tag to the left pocket. After a brief glance around, I offer a sheepish smile to Tara, "Where would I go to see my patient?"

Tara shakes her head, "You'll see him shortly, but you need to read his file first. Follow me, I'll show you to your office."

 _'My office.'_ I repeat in my head, smiling goofily. My own, personal office in one of the best psychiatric hospitals in Zootopia. This is a dream come true.

"In here, his file is on the desk. Tell the guard down the hall when you're ready to go see him, he'll take you to his room." Tara says, offering me a sympathetic smile. "Good luck with him."

I tilt my head curiously, everyone so far has acted strange when my patient comes up in conversation. A small sliver of doubt creeps into my stomach, and I briefly consider that this might be a bad idea, taking in this patient. But it gets pushed down by my enthusiasm as I skip over to my desk. "Okay! Who's the lucky-" I open the folder and skim across the words, "-fox, lucky fox." I say with a small smile, gaze moving back to the top of the first page.

**Nicholas P. Wilde  
** Male  
32 y/o  
Red Fox  
Floor D 

Reading that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and I can feel my paws getting clammy. _'Floor D'_ keeps flashing through my mind's eye. He's in the high-security ward, the underground level. "It's fine." I correct myself before I start to get scared, "Nobody said this was going to be easy." I mutter as I turn my attention back to the page.

 **Admitted to SCSH: 4/15/1990**  
  
My ears droop, he's been here since he was a kid. He's been here practically since before I was born...

**Symptoms: Aggressive tendencies. Outbursts. Anxiety attacks. Predatory Disposition.**

"Predatory Disposition?" I mutter to myself. Pursing my lips in consideration.

I've read enough. I close the folder and compose myself, collecting my clipboard and carrot pen. I clip his file onto the clipboard before I leave. I pull the door shut behind me and clear my throat as I approach the security guard standing in the hall. "Can you take me to my patient? Nicholas Wilde, Floor D?" I ask cautiously, looking up at the taller mammal.

The wolf turns to look at me and takes in my appearance, "Yes, of course." he says, though I don't miss the way his brows knit together in worry. "This way, Miss Hopps." I smile in thanks as he turns to lead me to my destination. I do briefly wonder how he knows my name, but a quick glance at my tag reminds me that everyone I meet here will learn my name.

A foreboding itch settles in the back of my mind, and I can't seem to shake it off this time. I jump when the elevator starts to move, and I can feel the guard briefly look down at me. I adjust the clipboard under my arm and shift my feet, willing my nose to stop twitching. I hate it when it does that, the universal sign of fear in bunnies.

It only twitches harder when the elevator doors open, revealing a long - very long - white hallway. My escort begins to walk, motioning for me to follow, "He's right down here. Room 27." he says.

I follow along, glancing at the doors we pass on the way. They are all scaled for larger mammals, but I suppose that's because it's not often that a rabbit like myself becomes a psychiatrist. I hear a few animalistic cries and screeches from down the hall, and I can't help but break out in a cold sweat. I know those sounds are only being made by animals who can't help it. Animals that need help from people like me. But it's still harrowing.

"In here." the wolf pulls out a key, showing it to me, "I'll have to keep this with me as a general rule. All due respect, but you can't ever be completely alone with this patient." he explains.

I nod, wiping my sweaty palms on my coat, "I understand."

"By the way, my name is Wesley Fredricks." he reaches down to shake my paw, dwarfing it in his own.

"I'd introduce myself, but you already know my name." I giggle.

Wesley gives a light chuckle, "That I do. Anyways-" he peers in through the barred window of the door, too high up for me to reach, "-looks like he's being good for now, but keep in mind: he _is_ highly unstable." he says, "Keep the door open, and call me if he makes you uncomfortable in any way. I'll restrain him if needed and/or escort you out." he unlocks the door and turns the handle.

I gulp and straighten my dress under my coat, pulling my clipboard out and putting on my professional airs, _'Here goes nothing.'_

  
~  
•  
~

  
I don't bother to look, I simply stare at the floor while the door opens. I know that if I make any moves, I could end up being restrained, and that comes with a muzzle...I can't let that happen. So I've resolved to keep my gaze on the floor during her visits. Keep myself from snapping...if that's possible.

"Hello, Nicholas. I'm Doctor Judy Hopps, but you can call me Judy." she introduces herself, and it takes all my willpower not to look up at the soft sound of her cheery voice. My ear twitches in her direction to let her know I'm not ignoring her. "From what I've read about you, I would seem to have my paws full." she quips, looking for a positive response from me. It's a tactic I've undergone many times before. Too many times for it to be effective.

"Don't call me Nicholas." I murmur, and the words rasp almost painfully against my throat after going so long without speaking.

"Hmm? I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that."

"It's Nick. Don't call me Nicholas." I say louder, my paws flex anxiously against the mattress.

"Alright. I'll be sure to remember that, Nick." she says my name pointedly. And she's moving closer, I can suddenly smell her. My nose is flooded with the smell of her sweat, mixed tantalizingly with fresh soil. I feel my pupils dilate, my hackles rise, and my body starts to quiver in anticipation.

I see her figure out of the corner of my eye, she jumps when I move, "Stop!" I yelp, holding out my shaking paw in desperation, "Please...back up."

She hesitates, but she takes a step back, and I slouch in relief, gripping my mattress so hard I hear my claws tear into it. "I'm sorry. I'll...just stay over here." she says quietly, striding over to the chair they put in here for her. She hoists herself up onto it, sitting down and fixing her little blue dress. She crosses her legs, leaning back and holding up her clipboard. She makes eye contact, and I am staring into those violet eyes for far too long before I realize I'm looking at her.

"No..." I breathe. _'They can't do this to me again! Not another one!'_ I can barely tell if it's me or the room shaking, and I close my eyes, a whimper escaping my throat. She's a bunny. She's _prey..._

"Nick?" her voice echoes in the room, and I attempt to scramble backwards, away from her sound and smell. Only to fall from the bed onto my side, inhaling sharply when the cold tile permeates my fur. "Are you okay?" she gasps, and I can hear her getting off the chair.

"It'll happen again!" I yelp, "I can't do this again! You can't help me..." I've curled into a ball beside my bed, hugging my tail while I start to hyperventilate.

"Nick..." I hear the faint coo of her voice, and I ignore it.

"Too many times...happened too many times." I gasp, my shoulders shake violently, and I am ashamed when I start crying. Shocked faces, the muzzle, deep lacerations, the airy feeling I get when skin breaks under my teeth and my mouth is flooded with sweet, tangy blood, then followed by the horror at my own actions...

"I see them all...all the faces, I see them. I _hurt_ them all." I hiccup, curling further into myself.

"Nick..."

She's touching me.

The realization is like a bucket of ice water, and I go entirely still, no more shaking, no more gasping for air. Her soft, velvety white paw rubs a small circle on my shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. Why is she touching me? Doesn't she know what's going to happen? Can't she see I'm dangerous? That I'm an animal? "A _monster."_

"No, no, shh..." she says, and my ear twists in her direction, "You're not a monster, Nick. You're just troubled, that's why I'm here."

She barely reacts in time when I leap to my feet, lips pulled back in a snarl, "What would _you_ know?!" I growl, I see her breath and heartbeat quicken, ears flat against her head as she holds her paws out to placate me. The twitching of her nose tells me she is afraid, and she's very right to be so. "You don't know what I've done, what I've seen...what I _want_ to do..." I trail off, my eyes zeroing in on the visible pulse of fresh, fresh blood, easily accessible just under the grey fur on her neck...

"Ah...Wesley? I think I need to get out!" she calls, stepping back slowly.

A wolf I've never seen before steps in and scoops her up before I can blink. I lunge for the source of movement, but the wolf shuts the door just in time, before my teeth can close around the last step his legs had taken. My jaws snap together over empty air. At this point I'm beyond speech, and I resort to scratching and barking at the door. I hear it lock, hear them step back, and I hear them talking, but I'm too far gone now, and I screech and yip until I'm too tired to keep doing so.

  
~  
•  
~

  
I can't _believe_ how close that was! I can hear Nick growling and barking behind the steel door, and the sound of his jaws snapping shut over thin air still echoes in my mind. "Why is he like this?" I breathe as I'm gently set upon the ground again.

"You got lucky, Miss Hopps." Wesley sighs, "Last therapist to touch him nearly lost his paw."

I gulp, placing my own paw over my hammering heart. "How am I supposed to help him?"

Wesley offers me a sad smile, "Beats me, Ma'am. I'm just security." he shrugs, "I'll walk you back to your office if you'd like."

I stare at that door for a moment before I follow, a billion scenarios running through my mind as to why he might be like this. He seemed relatively civil and in control until we made eye contact. That's when it began. It was so vivid, I felt like I was in a movie, watching him change. I may have been a good two meters away, but I saw his pupils dilate, saw the fur stand up on his body...

It was actually kind of breathtaking, in a terrifying, imminent-death sort of way. And despite that close encounter, I am already planning our next meeting. I need to finish reading his file, I need to get to the bottom of his trigger, find a way to channel it somewhere positive...

"Hopps?" Wesley taps my shoulder, gesturing to my office.

I blink, looking up at him with a smile, "Oh, thank you." I say as I step inside, closing the door behind me. I take a deep breath and roll up my sleeves, _'Time to get to work.'_

  
•  
•

  
I collapse onto my bed at home, having just barely tugged my oversized sleep shirt on. I can't help but wonder how Nick is doing, if he's well fed? If his bed as is comfortable as mine? If he has any friends? Family?

He seemed so scared, so, so scared. I'm already very sorry for him, I can't imagine what it must be like. I only know that his solitary confinement won't help, if it's aggression I'm dealing with. I need to know the root of his trigger, and to do that, I need to experiment with him. I hate to say it to myself, it sounds cruel in my head, but I need to do it.

I already have my game plan laid out. I'm going to socialize him, preferably with another fox, get him to make a friend. See if he can go without triggers around said friend, and then branch out to other species. From what his file says, all his attacks, or outbursts, have been around prey.

 _'That's why they didn't want to give me the position, isn't it?'_ I think to myself. It makes sense, bunnies were the natural prey of foxes thousands of years ago...

I give an involuntary shudder when the memory of his bared teeth invades my mind. I am a stickler for details, and I did not miss the way those blazing, green eyes fixated on my neck. He leapt for us when Wesley pulled me out. A few seconds delay in my call for a rescue would have meant either serious injury or death on my part. And that thought really sticks.

I could have died today.

But I'm not going to let it deter me, my patient needs me, and I'm not going to abandon him. He doesn't deserve that because I'm afraid of him.

Oh, _wow._

That hurts to admit to myself. I'd be lying if I said he didn't scare me today. But that's my job, that's what I trained in for years, learning how to understand and endure. I know how to deal with _my_ fear. I just need to teach him how to deal with _his._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simple filler while I work on more fulfilling chapters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got delayed cause my sister was tired of my putting her through a 4-month wait for another chapter to one of my other stories, lol.
> 
> This one is painfully short, but they'll get longer as they go on, I just want to give you all a nibble so you aren't starving like she did.

It's annoying, despite washing my shoulder at least three times since yesterday's incident, her scent still lingers. And I don't know whether or not it's what's driving driving me mad right now. Well, it _is_ actually...but at the same time...

I don't know how to describe it, but I've found myself burying my nose into my fur just to remind myself exactly what she smelled like. Maybe because it's comforting, or maybe I'm just crazy. Hah! News to no one in that case. But it's nice, now that I'm used to it, the faint tint of fresh earth and sun, hidden beneath a scent I'll probably never be able to describe. I know it smells like _her_ , at least.

She in herself is an enigma to me.

She seems nice enough, her demeanor is far different from previous doctors I've had. She was very wholesome, intriguing even. Despite my horrid first impression, I do hope she'll stay, it's not often that a doctor piques my interest.

But, that's probably a foolish wish. Anyone with a brain can see that I terrified her, and that she's likely already transferred to a different patient. Goes to show just how good my people-skills are: absolutely nonexistent.

I stay curled in place while my caretaker enters to serve my breakfast. The daily occurrence in which I express my displeasure towards seeing him doesn't happen. I just don't have the energy to expend towards such useless endeavors today. I simply blink at him from behind my tail, ears flattening as he looks my way.

"Breakfast." he says, as per the norm.

I exhale loudly and tug my tail closer, closing my eyes and ignoring him afterwards.

"Your new therapist said she'll be visiting again today."

My ears perk, and I'm sure he sees it, but he says nothing and leave, closing the door, I flinch at the loud bang I will never get used to. I don't understand...

I thought she wouldn't stay. So...why is she coming back? Why would she want to come back? Is he just playing tricks on me now? Trying to get my hopes up?

I uncurl, cringing at the cold floor against my paws as I approach my food, sitting down thoughtfully.

I'm not going to believe it until I see it.

  
~  
•  
~

  
I'm more determined than ever before, especially after researching Nick's condition. I can only guess at what caused him to develop Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and such an extreme case...I've hardly ever heard of it in predators. But in prey such as myself - at least, according to my research - IED cases usually only lead to comparably minor acts of aggression. Such as random bouts of unprovoked anger, yelling, breaking things...and - in rare cases - attacking others.

For Nick, his outbursts seem to induce a more primal reaction than other documented predator cases describe. For reasons I can't possibly explain. And from what his previous doctors have said about him, he only has outbursts around prey...

Granted, that terrifies me, as he could lash out at any moment when I'm with him. But if I could just get to the reasoning behind his condition...

Unfortunately, he's never opened up to any of his doctors. Not a single one, and that spells bad news for me, as I'm both prey, and a brand new doctor fresh out of training.

Along with the primal aspect, I did notice how terrified he is of me. At least I _think_ it was me, it could be he's terrified of something else, perhaps himself. Perhaps it's not so much prey, but fear that is the trigger? I honestly won't know until I work with him more, so I can only make assumptions until he confirms them.

I take a wet comb to my cheek and straighten out the fur that has been disheveled from my sleep. I slip my pajamas off and repeat the process to the rest of my fur, from my cheeks to the heels of my feet. I do a quick spin before the mirror to make sure I haven't missed any before I pull on my clothing, going for a simple, purple blouse and matching black skirt.

I look more approachable like this, casual, _warmer_. The dress was a bit too professional for my own liking anyways. I stretch my arms above my head and walk down the hall to my kitchenette, pulling a packet of baby carrots out of the fridge and tucking them in my lunch bag, along with a pre-packaged salad. And for my breakfast I've decided I'll get something on the way, as I'm cutting it close as it is.

I should probably limit myself to four hours of research a day. It would make for easier, earlier mornings if I wasn't waking up from a late-night binge on research.

I sling my purse over my shoulder and grab my lunch bag, sure to lock the door behind me and check my purse's contents for my essentials before I truly begin to leave.

Time to go see my patient again.

I feel surprisingly cheerful, less harrowed than I did last night. Perhaps it's because I truly know what I'm walking into this time, and I have a plan as to how to tackle it. A smile graces my face as I walk, and I take a small detour to the coffee shop, paying for to-go pancakes and a cup of coffee. Plain black, of course, I was lovingly raised to like the simple stuff.

I sip at said coffee as I complete my walk to the SCSH, clocking in and eating before I prepare to go see my patient. This time I'm ready, this time I'll do better...

 _He'll_ do better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Intermittent Explosive Disorder is a real condition, but, as Judy described, it's more akin to the prey-case-scenario than what Nick has.
> 
> Next time:  
> More doctor/patient interaction


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her second day with Nick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little iffy on this chapter.
> 
> Tried to integrate Nick's real personality just slightly. He's not cynical, but he's a bit antagonizing when he wants to be. 
> 
> Alongside that, Judy is easy to irritate, a fact that I think he'll latch onto fairly soon, and milk for all its worth.

  
"Hello, Wesley." I greet my escort warmly, remembering a fraction too late about the chocolate cricket cake I bought yesterday for him, left in my fridge out of my hurry to get to work on time.

"Hello, Hopps." he returns my greeting, expression laced with slight surprise at seeing me. Surprise that I am loathe to see, but will ignore with only lowkey irritation on my part.

"Is my patient ready to see me?" I ask, craning my head to see down the hall to the elevator.

"Right, um, right this way."

It'd be really nice if he'd sound less tentative, it makes me feel like everyone expects me to have quit after day one. Not likely. I'm not so shallow as to think a minor hiccup on the first day is enough reason to quit.

I straighten my coat as we ride down to Floor D, and unlike last time, there are other doctors talking in the hall as I step out. I receive a curious glance from the alpaca and leopard duo I pass on my way to Nick's room.

"You're late."

I jump, realizing Wesley has bent down to inform me of that in a quiet voice. "Late?" I murmur.

"Or later than yesterday, rather. When you got here yesterday most of them were in their first sessions for the day." he explains, "That's why you didn't see them. And they take small breaks in-between, that's why they're out right now."

"Oh." I smile briefly to show my thanks for his explanation, straightening my coat again as we stop next to Nick's room. I nod to Wesley and clear my throat, entering the newly unlocked door and putting on my softest smile. "Hello again, Nick." I say, looking up from my notes on the clipboard, and I abruptly have to skid to a halt. He was in the process of dressing, that much I can tell, but I don't for the life of me know why he was undressed in the first place.

He freezes the minute our eyes make contact, tail covering his necessities (of that I am most grateful), and paws peeking through the sleeves of his hospital robe. I realize I'm staring at his exposed fur and I squeak as I spin on my heel, "I am _so_ sorry!" I exclaim, "I should have knocked."

I don't hear much except the hesitant rustle of clothing, and the slow, shaky breaths he is clearly taking to keep himself calm in my presence. "It's okay." he rasps in that gravely voice that sounds like he's hardly ever used it, then swallowed a cup of sand on top of that. Is he saying that to me or himself? I'm not certain.

"Are you alright?" I ask, hugging my clipboard to my chest and ignoring the amused snickering I hear from Wesley outside the door.

"I'm fine."

That doesn't sound all that convincing, from the hitch in his breath.

"Are you _decent?"_

He shuffles his feet, I can tell from the clicking of his claws on the tile.

"Yes."

"Okay."

I turn around sheepishly, glad for the fact that I have fluffy fur and he can't see my burning cheeks. "Again, I'm sorry." I say, adjusting the files on my clipboard even though they aren't out of shape.

"It's nothing." he keeps his gaze on the ground, shoulders heaving with his now-heavy breath. I shift in place awkwardly, studying his body posture. He looks _fairly_ relaxed, aside from his borderline-panting. His eyes look a bit distanced, however, darting back and forth as if he's trying to decipher something.

"I, um, I'm going to sit down here. Feel free to tell me if you think I need to leave. I'm here for your comfort, after all-" I say, moving to the chair I had sat in yesterday, "-not mine." I mutter to myself, in a voice I thought was too quiet for him to hear. So his next words make me wince.

His ear twitches in what I recognize as a sign of irritation, and his paws curl into fists, "So you're uncomfortable with me?" he murmurs.

Well...shit.

"I didn't say _that."_ I gulp, fumbling with the pen in my hand.

"You implied it."

"Then I'm sorry for making that impression."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." I shoot back before I can curb my tongue.

He looks at me, and I see his pupils compress threateningly before he wrenches his gaze away. He's being difficult, antagonizing I might say. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little irritated by his attitude....

Or is that exactly what he's trying to do? Test me. Get a rise out of me. Find out my limits. I'll reflect on it later. Right now I need to stay on my toes, as I don't know his intentions. But I'm feeling kind of thrown off because of his sudden personality change. Yesterday he actually seemed like a patient, like he needed help. Today, it appears as if he has had a switch, aside from his obvious need to restrain his predatory tendency.

I clear my throat, "Nick, listen, I...I'm here to _help_ you."

"Of course you are." he sighs. "That's what they all say."

 _"And-"_ I continue, stressing the word in a show of my growing irk towards him. I can't say that I don't lose my temper easily, but I have been trained to stay patient after all. "-I can only help you through cooperation. But I do believe we can make progress, if you give me a chance."

"Hah!"

His laugh is quiet and hollow, and I see him shuffle uncomfortably. I sigh into my next words, "I _do_ want to help you. Don't you ever want to go outside again?"

His head snaps up.

I can see the spark of longing in his eyes, and I can tell I've struck gold. At least I hope so. "Because you can eventually go outside if you let me help you." I make a show of crossing my ankles and flipping through my papers, glancing up at him after a moment of letting him stew on that to find him still staring.

"You still alright?" I ask, as he looks a little strained.

"M'fine." he mumbles, so quietly I might not have heard him if not for my sensitive ears.

"Are you sure?"

His brows narrow, "I'm _fine_ , okay?"

"We both know that's not true."

That shuts him up, and he pulls back, crouching down and covering his face with his paw. And I feel a bit guilty for saying that. 

  
~  
•  
~

  
I don't know what to say to that, because she's right. I do need _help_ , and I do need _her_. Whether I want it or not, (which I internally do). Because I've been rotting away in this damn holding cell for years. A couple decades even. The walls made for the mental that mock and tell me I'm crazy, out of control, and the maiming and bloodstains in my memory to prove their whispers. I know I'm never getting out until I change. Until I learn to control my urges. So why am I provoking her? Why am I being so difficult?

It's because I don't believe she can fix me. She can't fix _this_ , what I've become. No matter what she may have said yesterday, I can see it in her eyes, I am a monster. To her, to everyone, and there's nothing that she can do that will change that.

"Nick, can I come closer?" she asks, voice suddenly less professional and confident and bit more timid and apologetic.

I peer out at her from behind my paw, willing my quickening breath to calm. "I don't think you should."

"But can I?" she asks, taking a step further from the chair.

"You _could-"_ I pause, my paw moving to my shoulder, the one she touched yesterday, "-and _I_ could kill you, you know."

She flinches, taking one step back, and we both go silent.

The room is eerily quiet, the only sound being the shuffle of her feet and the brush of my tail against the tile.

"I know."

I blink up at her, and she takes two steps forward to account for the one step I caused her to take back.

"I know, but...I think I can trust you _not_ to." she smiles warmly, and I lay my ears flat against my head, looking away as she starts to take consistent steps towards me.

"Why would you think that? I attacked you yesterday." I bark a laugh, "Or don't you remember?" I look back at her to see her response.

She tilts her head and pauses, "But was that really _you_ who attacked me?"

"Bunny..." I warn, body quivering with her looming proximity.

She steps closer, paw reaching out, "I'm going to step closer, to touch you, right here on your shoulder-" she narrates her movements, and I shiver under the touch of her paw on the opposite shoulder from yesterday's. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. My trembling increases tenfold, and it takes everything I have just to keep it together. "I don't really think it was, you know." she says, "And I think that you'll be able to change, to fight this, what's got ahold of you."

I look away, it's a little scary how easy she's reading me. She's good, and while I need that, I'm not so sure I like it.

"I'm going to do visit every day, Nick." she says, bending down only just enough to be at my eye level. "I'm going to keep coming back and talking to you. I don't _need_ to get close to you, like now, but I'm still going to."

"Why?" I huff, glancing briefly at her.

She scratches gently at the skin beneath my fur, and I feel her stand, "So that you'll get used to me." she is smiling again, I don't need to look to see. "And eventually-" her paw leaves my fur, returning to its place at her side, "-you might learn to tolerate having me around. After _that_ , we'll work on making you better."

"You should go." I rasp, looking up at her pleadingly, I'm at my limit as it is.

She nods, moving to pick up her clipboard, "I'm going to go as slow as I need to to make this work. As slow as you need me to go." she says, and I fail to hold back a primal whine, starting to salivate as the thoughts begin to take over. She's leaving, but she pauses at the door, "And Nick-"

 _"What?"_ I gasp. My claws bite into my own paws from how hard I'm clenching them shut.

"-I told you we'd make progress." she shuts the door.

All the feral thoughts fade, and I can't help but still at that profoundly true statement.

  
~  
•  
~

  
I touched him again!

I let out a whoop of triumph, pumping my fist in victory and skipping to my desk. Despite his attempts to throw me off at first, I think I made a dent in the bricks of his wall. The first of many, I can be sure, and this one is likely called _Trust._

I place the clipboard down and retrieve my recently-acquired laptop, pulling up my research from the night before. I stare at it for a moment, re-memorizing my game plan, and then I pull up my Word Documents to make official notes on his treatment. The majority of my days working with him, it would seem, will be spent in my office, outlining his behavior and his developments.

Today was no breakthrough, but it was a tiny step in the long climb up the mountain of adversity that he poses as a challenge to me.

The personality change is an issue, though, I'll have to outline this, research it, find the root of it. But my best guess is that he was likely not expecting me to return. I could tell by his expression when I first entered that room again. He was sure I had quit. And he was shocked to see me, for more than the fact that I walked in on him. And the fact that I came back threw him off, so he tried to throw me off. I am so proud of myself for not falling for it, I have to take a moment to recline in my seat and grin like an idiot.

Speaking of when I entered that room...

_'Oh sweet cheese and crackers...'_

My cheeks warm with a fierce blush, I've only ever seen my younger siblings naked...and I really hadn't meant to catch him in the nude. It was a terrible accident, and it threw off my game plan for a minute or so. I can't decide if that was the most shocking moment of my life or the most embarrassing. In any case, I'll have to make sure Wesley checks the room next time. I do _not_ want to go through that again.

I pull out my lunch and stretch my paws, preparing for a few solid hours of typing furiously on this laptop until I have a thorough evaluation and adjustment to my next move. I can only hope tomorrow is as successful as today.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Begin the long, arduous process of Nick's reformation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third day, Nick has issues and Judy is not a very patient rabbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I should mention, this is a side-story, so while I will always be updating until it's finished, it won't, unfortunately, be as regular as my main story (as of right now) 
> 
> But nonetheless, I'm inclined to update more frequently to placate my avid readers. Thank you for supporting me you guys.

  
With my newly installed limit on my research time, I actually had four or five hours of free time later in the day. And so I filled some of it with a leisurely jog around the neighborhood. Upon arriving home, I sigh as I sit on my couch, chugging my water bottle and tossing my apartment key on the coffee table.

It's only been two days, and yet I already feel as if I've been at this for weeks. I can only imagine how far I have left to go with this fox. If I ever get anywhere with him...

My phone rings, and I answer the Muzzletime with a smile, "Hi guys!" I exclaim, my cheery disposition shows through all on its own, without any prompting on my part.

"You sure look happy." my mom points out immediately upon seeing me.

"Well, that's because I am." I shrug, "It's very nice here and I'm already making strides with my first patient."

"Who's your patient, hun?" my dad butts in.

"Well, he-" I hesitate briefly, "Um, I don't think I'm allowed to talk about patients outside of work, dad." I excuse, granted I'm sure I'm allowed to talk about them a little. But I just don't think that my parents would take well to my first patient being a violence-prone fox.

"Ahh, I see." he sits back and nods in understanding.

"So you enjoy it, yes? Being a therapist?" my mom asks, her voice laced with hope.

I nod enthusiastically, "Yes, I do." I can't help but grin, I truly am enjoying my work thoroughly, despite how short my experience may be.

"Is the neighborhood nice?" my dad asks.

"Mhmm! Yeah, here: it's still light out, I'll show you the view." I tap the button to switch cameras and stand up from my couch, "It's got a great view of the ocean, and the streets are very clean. I haven't had a chance to meet the neighbors yet." I turn around and proceed to give them a tour of my apartment. "It's not big, but I think it's perfect for me. I don't need much space." I narrate as I turn on the light to my bedroom.

"It looks lovely, Judy!" my mom exclaims.

"We'll have to come visit in a few weeks to see it for ourselves." my dad says.

"I'd love that." I turn the camera back to me and offer them a warm smile, "Now I've got to get my dinner heated up, early start tomorrow." I say.

"Alright, Jude. Love you."

"We love you, Judy!"

"Bye!" I wave a paw and tap the End Call button as they say their goodbyes. With a deep, contented sigh, I put my phone down and start chopping some vegetables for a light soup.

  
•  
•

  
When I arrive in the morning I immediately head to Nick's room, Wesley tagging along behind me. "Could you check the room this time? I got an eyeful of naked fox yesterday, thanks to you." I poke my canine escort in the thigh, my face is graced with a smile to ensure him I hold no grudge.

Wesley chuckles and nods, shying away from my finger, "Of course. Of course."

"Also, I brought it this time, I have a gift for you during lunch." I say as he peers into Nick's room.

"Really?" Wesley turns to me and tilts his head, "What for?"

I shrug and scuff my foot against the tile, "I figure we're going to be partners for some time. Might as well be friends, right?"

An amused, toothy grin spreads across his grey features, and he nods as he speaks, "Right. You're all clear, by the way. Wilde seems to be asleep, or resting. Call if you need me." he unlocks the door, and I slip inside with a nod of my own.

"Thanks, Wesley." I say as the door swings shut. "Nick?" I call to the curled up ball of fur and hospital gown on the bed. One of his ears twitch, and he lifts his head to look at me over his shoulder. "Good morning." I smile.

He groans and his head drops back onto the pillow.

"Nick." I call, stepping closer, "Time for today's session." I grip the mattress and shake the bed.

"Not today." he says in response.

I sigh, "Niiiick."

  
~  
•  
~

  
Her singsong plea falls on deaf ears.

I don't know why, but today I don't feel in control, and it shows when she lightly tugs on my hospital gown. A sharp, rumbling growl immediately makes its way past my teeth, and I feel her paw jerk away. "Sorry!" she placates.

The growl soon dissipates into a low sigh, and I sit up tentatively, my arms trembling and tail thrashing over the edge of the bed, "Today just isn't a good day for me, Hopps." I say, keeping my gaze on the blanket beneath me.

I see through my peripheral that she takes a few steps back and straightens her shirt, "Oh, well, I suppose I'll go sit over here then? If I can't progress with physical contact I'll go with simple talking." she speaks as though repeating something she wrote down in her clipboard. Likely enough, as she no doubt has notes on me. She hops up onto the chair and makes herself comfortable.

"No, no, I think-" I begin to say, hackles bristling as her scent wafts past my nostrils. "Um..." I press my palm to my muzzle, rubbing circles on my forehead with my fingers and blocking her scent with my arm. It's hard to explain when speaking only makes it worse.

"Not a good day for anything?" she supplies, and I nod vigorously. I glance at her from behind my fingers and watch as she cautiously slips back down from the chair. "Okay then, I'll come back later." she says, and I can tell she's disappointed, her ears sag, and her steps shuffle along the tile, if only just barely.

"Sorry." I rasp, a low whine building in my throat.

She quickens her pace at that, "There's no reason to apologize. Just work on calming yourself, Nick. There's no time limit." she says as she exits the room.

I release my breath and tug my knees up to my chest as I start to pant. I can fight it off most of the time, but the primal, bloodthirsty urges are just irrepressible some days. The strangely comforting scent lingering on my shoulder from her touch has somehow switched from pacifying to a trigger.

I curl back into a ball and shudder as I slowly lose control.

  
~  
•  
~

  
"Damnit!"

I rub my forehead briefly before I right the innocent box that received my mild, frustrated kick. I know it's only the third day, but I stil have to mentally process that we're going to have off-days as well. I really need to work on my patience, but then again, I _am_ a bunny.

With a deep sigh I resolve to sit on my desk chair and spin in circles while I go over my notes. I'll have to check in on Nick before I clock out later, but for now all I can do is wait. Wait for him to get it together, and hopefully not attack me when I do visit again.

It gets boring after a while, and I open my laptop to type in my notes before I realize I don't really have anything to jot down yet.

"Ugh...." I groan, spinning another circle. "How long has it been anyway?" I grumble to myself, and a glance at the clock says forty-five minutes.

"Oh _come on!"_

I huff and jump out of my chair, scooping up my clipboard and purse before I head out of my office. Might as well explore the hospital while I'm waiting. Besides, I haven't exactly seen everything there is to see here. I start with the cafe, I haven't visited because I usually eat in my office. Its not particularly vast, being for the doctors themselves rather than the patients, who eat in the cafeteria, closer to their rooms.

I stroll along leisurely, clasping my clipboard behind my back and skipping a little. It's empty right now, as the doctors aren't on break. I briefly wonder if that means I shouldn't be out and about, but if there's nothing I can do with my patient right now, and I have no notes to revise...I'm sure it's an exception.

Beyond the cafe is a hall that I can see leads to the back gardens, for the more docile patients. I slip outside and close my eyes at the bright sunlight, soaking in the warmth. Upon walking deeper, the paths twist and wind around planted trees and small, shallow, mammal-made ponds. It's beautiful, and small birds and butterflies make their homes here.

Though my thoughts turn sad when I register in my head that Nick hasn't been able to see this...be outside, for years. It breaks my heart, really. I want nothing more than for his treatment to progress. A feat of which I know won't happen for at least a few months, possibly even stretching to a year. He's a difficult case, after all.

I hop up and sit myself down upon a bench, swinging my legs to a beat nobody can hear while I go over my notes again. I think I've memorized them down to the splotches of ink from my pen by now. I put the clipboard down beside me, placing my purse atop it and leaning back to close my eyes...

  
•  
•

  
I either dozed off, or time simply passes faster when you're relaxed, because I jolt at the sound of the patients being led outside. Checking my phone, I can see that I had, in fact, slept for two hours. _'How on earth did that happen?'_ I ask myself in scolding, because if I was caught sleeping on the job I'd likely be in trouble for sure.

I roll my head around to work the kink out of my neck, grimacing at the twinge of pain from sleeping up against a bench. Still, I _did_ manage to pass the time.

I find Wesley in the cafe and he tilts his head to examine me upon my approach, "Did you nap or something?" he asks.

Move my paws to my face and feel my fur self-conciously, "What?! How could you tell?" I hiss, looking around in embarrassment.

"Your eyes are a bit puffy." he laughs.

I sock him in the leg, the only place I can reach, "So maybe I did, but that's beside the point. I need to see Nick again before the work day is up." I gesture over my shoulder for him to follow, and I don't wait for an answer.

I hear him jog to catch up to me, and I straighten my clipboard out before we enter the elevator. "Three days in and he's already got you worn out, then?" Wesley teases.

I scoff, crossing my arms, "Shut up. It was nice outside and I only closed my eyes for a minute."

"That's what everyone says." he chuckles.

"Because it's true!" I defend, stepping haughtily out of the elevator when the doors open, my canine escort following close on my heels.

"Alright, alright." he smirks, checking the room for me, "He's not on the bed...hmm..." he covers the glass with his paw to see better, and I tap my foot anxiously in wait. "Oh, okay wait a few seconds, there he is, he was indisposed I think." Wesley unlocks the door for me.

"Thank you." I slip inside for the second time that day. Nick jumps in surprise upon my entry, and I smile warmly to assure him, "Hey, Nick! Feeling any better?"

"Not really." he gulps, backing away two steps and tracing unknown patterns on his small table with a claw.

"Too bad for me to stay?" I inquire, jotting down any slight behavioral differences I can see.

He shrugs, "Maybe, I'm...not sure yet." his voice turns gravelly again, and I see his hackles raise briefly before the fur flattens again. His breath hitches and I instinctively stiffen in preparation to run out.

"Not today, then?" I prod, anxious for some clarity from him.

He exhales shakily and shakes his head, "No, I don't think so."

I believe him, I can see his pupils dilate and his war with his hackles is a losing battle, combined with the faint whine I hear building in his throat. "Alright." I say as I go for the door.

"H-Hey?" his voice halts me, and I look over my shoulder in confusion.

"Yes?"

He isn't looking at me, and I think he is covering his nose, likely to filter my scent. "It's a weird question..." he pants, "But can I have something of yours? To help me..." he shudders and a small yip makes it past his guard, "...get used to your scent." he manages to finish.

"Oh! Of course! Of course." I am all too willing to comply, after all, it's what he seems to struggle with the most. I unbutton my overshirt and slide it off of my arms, placing it gently on the floor. "It's next to the door. Until tomorrow, Nick." I say as I leave for the last time today.

Well _there's_ progress! Thank goodness. Wesley raises a brow when I exit without my white overshirt. "All part of the therapy." I explain when I track his gaze.

"Hey, don't mind me, not my place to ask questions." Wesley placates with a smile.

I return it likewise, although my thoughts are preoccupied with my patient. I wonder if it will really help, leaving an article of clothing there with him. It does seem to be my scent that bothers him the most, sight only cements the issue. I do wonder if, perhaps, I had something to redirect his senses while I was in the room, then he might be easier to deal with. Might have an easier time controlling his urges. Just maybe.

I know what I'll be researching tonight.

  
~  
•  
~

  
I almost lost control for the second time today, but I think she left in time. Or maybe I'm getting better at handling myself? I'm not sure. I'm not the therapist, after all.

I know I said it was to get used to her scent, but I don't really know why I asked for something from her, except for the fact that having it with me is a big comfort. Strange how when the rabbit herself isn't around, her scent tends to be soothing (not all the time, mind you). And yet when she's nearby, it's overwhelming, as if it eggs on my instinct to maul something.

In any case I wasn't expecting an article of clothing, of all things. I expected a bracelet or something.

I curl up with the thin, white overshirt in my paws, testing the texture of the fabric and the effect the scent has on my addled brain. I took out some of my frustration on the table leg, adding to the many jagged dents from my teeth without a second glance. It helps, sometimes, if I do that. Luckily for me, it actually helped this time. So I don't seem to feel inclined towards savagery when I lightly sniff the fabric.

A slight smile breaches my lips, and I hug the fabric to my chest. It also makes me feel less alone in this cramped room. Kind of like I have my therapist with me at all times, even if she's not here. It's a great feeling, all companionship, comfort and warmth. So much so that I actually fall asleep without any battles with insomnia this time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Nick, such a lonely little cinnamon roll.
> 
> By the way, I had one comment practically begging for eventual smut, so I'm curious as to what the majority of my readers think?   
> Do tell me, I'm most eager to please.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I continue after a major hiatus!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW YOU ARE EXCITED BUT PLEASE READ FIRST!  
> Hey you guys! Long time no see. So, I have been spending the past few weeks furiously writing chapters for this story so that I can soon update regularly. But with the threat of net neutrality being repealed I just wanted to urge my U.S. readers to research the subject and do whatever you can to help stop this from happening if you haven't already. You can help if you're not in the U.S. as well.
> 
> Be sure to:  
> Sign petitions.  
> Protest (there will be country-wide protests on December 7th I believe, you can look up locations)   
> Email your congressmen/representatives.   
> Call/text your congressmen/representatives.  
> Whatever you can do. 
> 
> Now, back to my fic, I have about 7 more chapters roughly written, I'm gonna try to edit them and pump them out from here on, with no specific dates, just when I find time. I should mention that this story is going to be fairly short, once everything is said and done. Now on to writing the remaining chapters (after the 7 I have written there will be approximately 15-20 more) I'm going to try and get the next chapter out asap, but I'm also traveling so it's a bit difficult. (Granted it leaves a ton of time for binge-writing, but posting is always a chore)
> 
> Onto the story! Enjoy!

I'm not sure I'll ever get anywhere with this damned fox.

 

I sigh and run my hand over my face as I sit back on my couch. It's a been a couple weeks now, and I am barely able to have a full conversation with him, let alone touch him again. After he obtained my overshirt he seemed to recoil further from any attempt at touching. Strange, as it was meant to help him get used to me. 

 

I've been comparing my notes and his diagnosis over these past couple weeks and I am beyond baffled...something doesn't make sense...doesn't line up. A something I am still trying to pinpoint, to no avail as of yet. I feel like I'm going in circles. As if there's a simple, two-piece puzzle in front of me, and yet my brain refuses to put the pieces together. 

 

In defeat, I stand and let my folder fall to the couch, abandoning my work for the night so I can come back to it fresh in the morning. It's the weekend and thus I have a day off...though it doesn't feel much like it. The weeks I've worked on this case so far have felt endless, I am so consumed by it. I'm pouring my heart and soul into fixing this fox, and so far my efforts feel like they have little to no effect. 

I don't care who you are, that's disheartening. 

 

I jolt as my phone suddenly rings, and with a glance at my mom and dad on the Caller ID I realize I have forgotten all about their visit. 

 

"Shit..." I mumble as I answer, luckily I don't have to fake a smile as it's only a call. "Hey Mom." 

 

"Hello sweetheart! Your father and I are taking the train tomorrow, and we'll be staying at a nearby hotel while we're there." 

 

"Oh no, Mom, you can stay here." I say, biting my lip. I'm only making this tougher on myself by offering, "Really, you shouldn't have to spend money on a hotel when I have a perfectly good place here." 

 

"I know dear, but we wouldn't want to be a burden-"

 

"Mom, seriously, you can stay with me."

 

"Stu, did you book that hotel already?" she seems to move away from the phone.

 

I give a small humph and a smile of amusement as I hear them hollering and/or arguing back and forth for a half minute or so before she's back. 

 

"Alright, Judy. If you're sure." 

 

"I _insist_." 

 

I can feel her smile in her voice, the repeated I love you's and see you tomorrow's ringing in my ear until I finally manage to say goodbye and hang up. 

 

I run my paw over my face with a sharp groan and flop back onto the couch. Now to check for tourist spots nearby, no doubt my parents will want to spend the day all over town. 

* * *

 

My foot is thumping against the floor nervously, but why am I so nervous? I have been in a cold sweat since I woke up this morning. I dressed in the most casual attire I think I own, jeans and a gray tee, ate a small breakfast (I want to be able to eat with my parents after all), grabbed my keys and my wallet and made for the train station. 

 

Now as I wait I feel so apprehensive and I just can't figure out why. Is it because of my parents? Or is it because of my work? I'm excited to see them, perhaps I'm afraid of questions? I know I have been avoiding their almost daily, probing questions about the intricacies of my work. Yes, perhaps that's it. 

 

In all technicality I am truly not allowed to discuss specifics, but they  _can_ know who I'm working with and they can know a basic summary of what his issue is. But that alone may be a lot for them to take. They still hold a major grudge against foxes as a whole, as they never really got over Gideon Gray. I suppose I haven't either, not completely at least. My paw subconsciously goes to the thin scars hidden beneath the fur of my cheek as I think of that. 

 

"Judy!" 

 

I jump at the sound of Dad's voice, straightening to see him through the various crowd, and I spot his waving paw soon enough. With an involuntary smile I jog over and launch myself into his waiting hug. 

 

"Hey Dad!" 

 

"There's our big girl." 

 

Mom hugs me from the side and I fall away from my first hug to give her a real one. 

 

"I missed you guys." I say as I pull back, I think this is my first genuine smile since I met Nick. 

 

Speaking of Nick...

 

Nope. Not going to think about right now. Today is about my parents, about spending time with them, not worrying about tomorrow's troubles. 

 

"We've missed you too, Jude." Dad drapes his arm around my shoulder as we start to walk into the city. 

 

"I figured we should head to my apartment and get you settled before we head out for lunch." I say, beckoning a taxi cab with a rather aggressive wave of my hand and a sharp whistle. I learned within the first weekend here that the taxi drivers only respond to the more ridiculous displays. 

 

Mom giggles at my antics and I blush under my fur. 

 

"What do you guys feel like trying?" I ask as I help load their suitcases into the trunk with the cabby, a rather tall antelope. "There are a lot of good restaurants near my apartment." 

 

"Oh, you know Stu we should have thought of looking them up." Mom says, and I grin. 

 

"Why don't you choose, Judy?" Dad says, "We completely overlooked food." 

 

I give a nod and offer my address to the cabby before I buckle up between them. "Sounds good. I wanted to take you down to the beach after lunch for a ride on the boats. It's a lot of fun, I took a ride last weekend." 

 

* * *

 

We had lunch at The Clapping Clam, a quaint little restaurant at the seaside that caters to both herbivorous mammals like us and carnivores. My parents have never been so excited that I've seen, it was nice to watch them react to the sights and sounds. Now we're on one of the rented boats. I know how to drive it now after a quick lesson last time. So we were able to go out on the water with just ourselves, enjoying the warm weather and the ocean breeze. 

 

My parents have been sitting on the deck and pointing at things for the past half hour, and I have stalled the boat a little ways out in the water. I sit next to them with a contented sigh and lean into Dad's comforting hug. 

 

"So Judy..." Mom turns on her heel after looking over the edge of the boat.

 

I know that look, she's about to ask me something that will make me uncomfortable, or maybe her...either way it's going to be awkward. 

 

"I'm very curious about your patient. You seem so obscure over him."

 

Dad's paw flexes on my shoulder, and I shrug noncommittally. "There's not much to tell, though I  _was_ unsure of what I could tell you." I say, "What I can say is that he's a difficult case, his name is Nick, and he's a fox."

 

Of course they both exchange worried glances. 

 

"A _fox?_ " Mom bites her lip.

"What's his problem?" Dad asks.

 

"I'm...treating him for aggression." I say hesitantly. 

  
Dad stands and crosses his arms, "Are those people  _crazy?!_  You're a bunny! They assigned you to an  _aggressive fox?_ " 

 

I shrug again, "It's fine, I've got a wolf keeping guard whenever I'm with him. And he's cooperative as he can be. His problem, it's all involuntary, the poor thing. I'm working so hard to fix his issues. Do you know how satisfying it is when I end up helping? I can hardly describe how fulfilling this is for me." I explain. "And really, it's all safe and under control. But I do admit...I avoided telling you for so long because I didn't want you to freak out, like you just did."

 

They are both staring at me with a mixture of awe and concern in their gazes. 

 

"Well..."

 

"I uh-" 

 

"I suppose that makes sense." 

I offer an uneasy smile at their response. 

There is silence for a time, and I fidget nervously with my paws until I can't take the quiet anymore."Did you want to go to the museum?" I steer the conversation away from my line of work, and they seem to follow, whether eagerly or simply because they see that I don't want to delve into a discussion about it isn't easy to tell. 

 

* * *

 

We had such a great day I completely forgot about my apprehension. We're settling down for bed, I gave up my own bed to sleep on the couch, shooting down their protests without hesitation. 

 

I'm sitting down to preface my notes for tomorrow's work day when my mom sits beside me with a sigh. 

 

"Judy?" 

 

I close the laptop and place it on the coffee table, "Yeah?" 

 

"You'll be careful, right?" 

 

I nod, "Of course. I'm never not careful. And I was telling the truth when I said he's cooperative." 

 

"I know, dear, but you can't possibly account for every scenario. What if...well I can't help but wonder...what if something happens to you?" 

 

I can't answer immediately, my gaze resting on her paw, which in turn rests upon my arm. For some reason that particular question inspires a lot of doubt in me. But for Mom's sake I answer as confidently as I can, "Mom, I'll be fine. I know my limits and I know my patient's. I've been as careful as I can be." 

 

She hums in response and strokes the fur of my ear, gentle and motherly in her tone. "I know, we just worry, Judy." she says, pressing a sweet kiss to my temple that leaves me smiling softly. 

"If something happened to you I don't know what we would do." she says as she hugs me, and I frown against her fur.

 

* * *

 

I say goodbye to them in the morning, Dad almost cries again, and I give him a big hug. 

 

As soon as their train leaves I make my way to work, dressing in my office and hurrying into the ward, jogging up to Wesley with heaving breath. "Hey!" I say, waving a paw while I straighten my coat and clothing, checking my clipboard as we begin our walk. 

 

"You  _almost_ ran late again." he says, smirking at my frustration. 

 

"I was seeing my parents off at the station!" I say defensively. 

 

"Oh? How are they?" 

 

"Good, they're good." 

 

He nods and gestures to the elevator. It's a familiar ride to Floor D and Nick's room. I feel rather anxious to see him. Our stalled progress only makes me more eager to meet some sort of breakthrough. Coming up on a month of working with him and little to no progress is frustrating as hell, nonetheless. 

 

Wesley opens the door for me and gives me the all clear to enter. 

 

"Good morning, Nick." I greet, keeping a respectable distance but striding to stand closer than I probably should. "How are you today?" 

 

He's tucked away on his bed, as he generally is, though I can see the edge of my overshirt peaking out from the middle of his curled form. His ear swivels toward me and he lifts his head lazily, I've grown used to his constantly labored breathing and almost hungry eyes. 

 

"Sleepy?" I provide when he doesn't speak, and he offers me a shrug. Well  _that_  puts a damper on my hopeful mood. Unchanged. He's always unchanged, and sometimes even worse. It does not make sense. IED is curable, treatable, but no one has made even the slightest step? 

 

It's starting to inspire a strange feeling in me. It feels like tar in the pit of my belly and a prickling warning in the back of my head. 

 

He uncurls and sits up, slouching back on his outstretched arms and staring at the floor. I generally prefer eye contact but know it helps him tolerate my presence, so I don't mind anymore.

 

"Yeah." 

 

I give a start when he speaks, he hasn't spoken for the past three sessions. His voice is, as usual, a bit gravelly and hoarse from sleep.

 

"Huh?" 

 

I want to facepalm at how unprofessional my response is. 

 

"I  _am_ sleepy." he gives me a slight smirk and I breath out a small laugh. 

 

"Right." I step up to the little table in the middle of the room and place my clipboard upon it before hopping up onto the metal chair. "Any changes over the past couple days?" I ask as I always do, whether he responds or not. 

 

He shrugs again, "Comes and goes. Same as always." 

 

I'm a little put off by how well he's doing today. Talking to me anyway.

 

"No patterns of any sort?" I probe.

 

He tilts his head, glancing at me briefly, "Patterns?

 

"Is there anything that seems to trigger you? Any thought, food, noise? Things like that." I explain. 

 

He shakes his head, "It's as random as the weather." he says, and then far more quietly: "Not that I'd know." 

 

I hear the muttering and clear my throat, "Nick?" 

 

He glances at me again.

 

"Listen, I...in order to start fixing this, I need your cooperation in more than just tolerating my presence. We need to delve into memories and find out where this began." he stiffens noticeably, but I continue regardless. "I know from your file that you've been here since you were a child. The last time you saw sunlight was just over twenty-five years ago. I want more than anything for you to be let outside, and better yet, be reintroduced into society. You don't deserve to be locked up like this. It's not fair that this happened to you." 

 

He's staring at me, his hackles raising and lowering rhythmically, his eyes are narrowed, body straightened and his breath is heavy. 

 

I feel like I've struck a cord, perhaps a bad one. I can't tell if that look in his eyes is hope or fury. He won't stop staring but he shows no signs of attacking me. 

 

"Nick." I prod again.

 

He shakes his head and runs his paw over his face, "Listen carrots, you don't understand, looking back..." he grimaces, "I can't do it." 

 

"I know it's probably painful but we have to find the source so that I can help-"

 

"I  _can't!"_  he exclaims, and I jolt, my fur standing on end while he flails his arms about trying to get me to understand him, "I can't remember  _anything!_ It's like a piece of my mind is missing!" 

  
I stare at him for a time before I'm able to speak again. "That doesn't make sense. Your condition doesn't have anything to do with memory-" 

 

"Maybe it's not my condition then." he remarks dryly.

 

If I thought I was on edge before, I am many levels higher now. His words are ominous and my mind is racing with the realization that he might be right. All the loose ends I've been telling myself mean nothing...all the research and facts that just don't line up with IED...

 

"That...what makes you think that?" 

 

He's silent. 

 

"Nick.  _What_ makes you think that? If your diagnosis  _is_ wrong then maybe we can take more steps towards fixing this." 

 

"I don't know. All I can remember...is just...being here. Maybe  _something_ before that, it's not even there but it's still...there. You know?." he says, glancing up at me to see if I'm still listening. 

 

I am. I'm listening with rapt attention because these are the very first words he's ever spoken that mean something, something I can work from. 

 

"Why didn't you tell any of the other doctors?" I ask, mostly just wondering aloud. 

 

"Because I didn't trust any of them." 

 

I suppress a gasp at that implication, looking to the side and then back at him in consideration.

 

"So...does that mean you trust  _me?"_

 

He purses his lips, and I blink when I realize I'm staring at them. 

 

"Not...not necessarily." 

 

I deflate at that, "Oh." 

 

"More like I know you're not fake, by this point at least. No doctors ever lasted a month. And even less of them seemed genuine." 

 

I nod, noticing how tame his demeanor is. "You still feeling okay?" 

 

He seems startled to be reminded of it, and he blinks at me in confusion, "Well...yeah." 

 

"Good." I smile warmly. 

 

He stares at me, and I at him. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and then seems to wrench his gaze away after maybe half a minute. His ears slant sideways and the fur on his chest and face seems to fluff up. I'm not certain what that means, but at least it's not his hackles. 

 

I take the silence as a perfect time to write down my new observations. The scratch of my pencil against paper echoing uncomfortably in the small room for the next minute or so. 

 

"Carrots?" 

 

I look up from my notepad immediately. "Yes?" 

 

"Want to try touching my paw? I think I've got a lid on it." 

 

I blink. He's holding out his paw for me, looking just as eager as I am for me to reach out in kind. I hop down from the seat and carefully hold out my smaller paw. The pads of his palm are softer than I expected, his rich, burgundy fur feels velvety even on his paw. I smile, and he offers the slightest of smiles in return. 

 

"Very good, Nick. Very good." I breathe, exhilarated by the experience, that strange fluttering in my stomach, and the fact that I've finally taken another step. It's been nearly a month since my last breakthrough, if it can even be called that. 

 

He looks away and pulls his paw back in a somewhat hesitant move, and I am struck with the sad realization that he has hardly been touched in any way as gentle for the better half of his life. 

 

"Still okay?" 

 

He nods, "Just don't want to push it." he says as he folds his ears back and shuffles in place. 

 

"Yes, of course." I pull my paw back in kind and brush the fur of my cheek with it in embarrassment. "I'll need to go compare my notes. I'll be back in an hour. We need to spend as much time as we're able together." I turn to collect my clipboard. 

 

"Alright." 

 

I turn to look at him once more, the trepidation and fear I felt only minutes ago has been fully replaced by that light and fluttery feeling in my chest that I stubbornly attribute to my giddiness over the breakthrough. "We're taking steps, Nick. Baby steps, but steps all the same." I say with a smile. He nods, meeting my gaze and I realize that he had been looking at me before I turned. His gaze isn't so predatory, I note as I leave. Though that sweeping glance he gave me was a bit strange, he's never done that before. 

 

Wesley's presence goes almost entirely unnoticed as I walk to my office, up until I open my door, when a thought occurs to me. 

 

"Wesley? You're a cop right?" 

 

He cocks his head at the question, "Security Guard, but I was a cop, yes." 

 

I hum, "Have any friends at the station? I may need to dig a bit more into Nick's history and I've gone through his medical records so many times I can probably recite them. I wonder if he has any police records? I can't exactly get into those on my own." 

 

Wesley raises a brow, "Is that legal?" 

 

I scoff and laugh, "Why wouldn't it be? It's just records, right?" 

 

He gives a shrug and a nod, "That makes sense. I'll pull a favor, I don't have access to most records anymore but a couple friends owe me." 

 

"Thanks, Wes." I pat his leg as I enter my office and head to my desk. 

 

Things are getting strange. I realize this with even further clarity now that I'm alone with my thoughts. I'm starting to think that this isn't an everyday case of IED. I think there's a deeper cause, a meaning behind poor Nick's circumstances. I am seeing red flags left and right, telling me that I'm getting myself into something that isn't going to solve easily. I just don't know what exactly that is yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next chapter (very soon, perhaps tomorrow or the day after)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nick is a confused, twitterpated boi and Judy is starting to uncover things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! Took more than a few days hehe.
> 
> Traveling and unforeseen delays, but here you guys go, and I will try to have the next one out quickly.

I stare at my paw, embarrassed and a bit confused. Today was a good day, from my point of view. I didn't need to restrain myself nearly as badly  _and_ I was able to touch her without repercussions. 

I don't really know why I opened up to her like I did. And as for my confusion, I am bewildered as to why I found myself caught in those wide, violet eyes of hers. I had a strange moment where I was just unable to look away, and doing so took a fair amount of effort on my part. My skin warmed and my fur puffed up in the telltale that a fox is blushing.  _Why_ was I blushing? 

Is it maybe...

Nah.

She's a bunny! I'm a fox. And a crazy fox at that. It's an absolutely ridiculous notion and I'm silly for even thinking of that. 

I wasn't staring. I wasn't. And I certainly didn't feel inclined to watch her swaying hips as she left. I just like her, she's genuine and she's persistent. She's actually trying to fix me, and I appreciate it. I only blushed because I was staring. I was embarrassed. 

Yes. That's it. 

 

* * *

 

It's been a week, a week of wonderful opportunity. I have talked with him every good day, sitting closer when I have the chance, testing his limits, parting with a pat on the arm and showing him pictures of my home on my phone. He'd never seen an iPawd before, and he couldn't remember what grass looked like. It felt so fulfilling to vividly remind him what green is, what nature is, and what he's fighting for. 

He's been careful not to talk to me  _too_ much, I can feel everything he holds back from me. I know he isn't lying about his lost memories, but he also isn't telling me some things he does know. 

And yet for all the progress I'm making with him, how happy it makes me, my progress in other fields is starting to garner fierce concern for the reasons behind his being put away. 

As I learned this morning after Wesley approached me:

**~**~**

 

"Hey there, Hopps." 

I look up from my notes, rubbing a tired eye as I pause in my walk to my office. It was a long night of research, even though I told myself I wouldn't be doing that anymore...old habits die hard. 

"Hey, Wes." I say with a weary smile. 

"You know that favor you asked me to pull?" he asks, and I only then notice that he's holding his paws behind his back.

I narrow my eyes curiously, "Uh,  _yeah?"_

He grins, flashing a neat row of white, shiny teeth at me before he proudly presents me with a yellow folder. "It came through." 

I gasp and take the folder from him with eagerness, flipping it open to scan the pages, my smile widening in excitement. "Wesley, you're the best!" I almost make to hug him, but that's not very professional, much less in public with all these other doctors around. So I settle for a pat on his knee. "I better get you another cricket cake." 

His smile turns dopey and he gazes off into the distance dreamily, likely at the thought of the cake. I chuckle as I turn around to hurry to my office. "Thanks again!" 

"No problem." 

I enter my office and open the folder again, intently reading and making my way over to my desk without looking up from the first page. My ears soon fall flat against my head and my posture deflates as I place it upon my desk.

It is identical to his medical reports.

I groan and let my head fall forward onto the page. I heave a sigh and turn my head to look at the page right before my nose in resignation. I just don't know what to do, I've been searching through everything I can think of and I've come up completely blank. I can't explain why Nick doesn't align at all with the characteristics and symptoms of his diagnosis. I've told myself time and time again that his illness is curable, and yet here I am. Slaving away to treat something treatable, something that most can reign in within a few months maybe half a year at most. Here I am, with almost no progress besides being able to talk to him regularly. 

What else can I-

Wait.

I blink and look at the report again, and I feel like my eyes are deceiving me because I'm staring at something that might just help my case. 

I read the sentence again, and again... _once_ more. Yes, it says what I think it says. 

"Please be something, please be something." I mumble in a mantra as I scramble to collect Nick's medical report. 

I read the same section, and excitement grows in my chest as I reread it as well, just to double check. 

"Okay." I murmur, biting my lip as these new facts come together in my head. 

It's not much, but it's enough to go off of for now.

From what the officer in his incident report says, Nick - barely eight at the time - was found on all fours, savage, next to the injured body of a lamb near the same age. He was taken into custody until the facts could be garnered. The kit was interviewed once he was coherent, about three days later. And the officer says he was waiting to see if the lamb's father pressed charges before a medical report was brought in and the kit's prior diagnosis of IED was brought to the table. 

In a flurry of activity that this officer claims confused him, Nick was almost immediately put away with that diagnosis and the label of predatory disposition. 

But while his medical report is almost exact, there's a difference that has me questioning everything. The police report says he was diagnosed with IED a few months before he was involved in the incident, whereas the medical records state he was diagnosed a week after he arrived here. 

I slump in my chair, steepling my fingers together and inhaling deeply to calm myself. 

I've definitely found something, and it's almost thrilling. I feel like a detective, but I also have this ache in my chest that feels like apprehension. I have an underlying feeling I'm getting myself into something I'm not quite ready for. Or maybe I am and I'm just scared. 

I turn my gaze back to the two reports. 

So why don't these line up? 

 

* * *

 

He had a bad day yesterday, and he's been curled up on his bed today since I entered. It's been three days since I received his case file from Wesley. He said when I entered that he's feeling alright, but he hasn't made to move or answer more questions, so I'm just reading over my notes again. I've hit a dead end, I'm trying to find anything else I can to pick up these pieces and put them together. That two piece puzzle in my head just became a hell of a lot bigger. 

"What does that say?" 

I yelp, jumping up to my feet and placing a paw on my chest to calm myself at the sudden, inquisitive voice brushing my ear. He's standing less than a foot away from me, his paws resting on the table. I didn't even hear him approach me, I was so lost in my thoughts. 

"Gosh! You scared me, Nick." I chuckle lightly, and when Wesley peeks in to check on me I wave him off. No doubt my startled cry might have worried him. He raises a brow and closes the door cautiously. 

Nick is looking at me with a vague sadness in his eyes, flattening his ears and looking to the side. "Sorry." he says. 

"I just didn't hear you, you came up on me out of nowhere." I assure with another breathless chuckle. "No matter who you are, that's startling." 

He nods, and I clear my throat as I sit back down. "So, what was your question again? You asked what it says?" I remind him to get his mind off of it. 

He shuffles his foot and looks at my notes, "That's a big word." he points to the paper and I look at the word he pointed to. 

"Inconclusive." I read out for him. And then my ears fall flat against my head as the implications of this conversation settle into place. I look at him with wide eyes and a sympathetic frown, "You can't read." 

His fur puffs up again and his ears go flat against his head as he glances down and moves to sit on the chair opposite me. 

I should have known, he was put away before he even finished third grade. If he was even  _in_ school. 

Hey...school records...

I make a mental note to look those up later. 

"I did know once. The little words at least." he says, "But like everything else before I came here, it's all fuzzy and...blocked out, I guess is the best way to describe it." 

I am overcome with sadness. Each time I get reminded that he has been here for twenty-five years it tears at my heart. I'm beginning to wonder if anyone ever gave him a true chance. 

"I could teach you." 

He perks his ears and stares at me, his eyes wide is surprise. 

"Really?" 

"Or reteach you, rather." I shrug, "It's easy, and it's a good way to stave off boredom when you can curl up with a good book." I lean against the table and prop my chin on my paws. 

He's obviously intrigued, though he remains silent. 

"Tell you what," I say as I make to collect my things, "I have a bit of research to do over the weekend, but I'll go pick up a book and we can start on Monday." 

He stares at me. 

I shuffle in my seat, "If you're feeling good enough, that is." 

He keeps my gaze for a moment longer, his ear twitching, "Okay." he finally says, and I smile in triumph. 

"Don't sweat it, I'll have you literate in a few shakes of a lamb's tail." 

He tilts his head, "Literate?" 

"You don't know-" I start, and then I lower my paw with a small giggle, "You'll know eventually." 

He shrugs. "If you say so." 

 

* * *

  
I always revert back to the same thing. I'm never sure what to think of every new thing she does. Now she's teaching me to read? I'm both excited and nervous about that. But why is she putting so much effort into this? Why does she care so much? 

Okay, I know why. It's because she is genuine, determined, sweet...pretty.

I shake my head, that doesn't have anything to do with her personality. I huff at the thought and hop up on my bed to curl up with the shirt she left me, my thumb running over the soft fabric reverently. Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her maybe just a  _little_ pretty. Funny how just about a week ago I was denying that, I wonder what changed? I wonder why I think that?

I don't think I'm smart enough to answer those questions yet. The only thing I can do is wonder for now. Maybe one day I'll ask her.

* * *

 

I've been doing a lot of research over the weekend, but I realized within an hour of digging that there are just too many schools and more than half are not young enough to help narrow my search. 

I've had more frustration in the past few months than I think I've had in my entire lifetime. It's almost too much to handle. 

I'm looking at his police report again to see if there's anything else I missed. And I stare at it for a moment before I blink. I haven't thought of parents. Where are his parents? 

With a quick shuffling of papers I have gathered a few promising pages. Though it's a gamble, perhaps I can find a name and track them down. 

"This is going to be fun." I mumble sarcastically.

 

* * *

 

It's a tiring climb, as usual. I watch as Nick reads out the small words, mumbling them to himself while I wallow in heavy thought. He's picking up quick, though I would garner that it's from having gone through a couple grades as a kit. His off days are as common as his good days, today is particularly good. He's even smiling to himself while he reads the book. 

I wonder how he would react if I told him I was looking for his parents? I don't want to tell him just yet, I'd hate to get his hopes up. If I can track them down then I might finally have some history on Nick. History that could clear up all these missing pieces of the puzzle. 

I realize with a start that he's staring at me, and I meet his gaze for a good moment, studying emerald eyes lazily. He raises a brow  and gestures with his paw after a significant amount of time. Oh, was he trying to get my attention?

"Did you say something?" 

He frowns at me in exasperation, "I asked if I read it right." 

I rub at my temples, "Gah...I'm sorry, Nick. I've just been stressed with all this paperwork to go through and analyze...I didn't mean to zone out on you." I stand up on the chair so I can lean over and peer at the book, "One more time for me?" 

My proximity to his face doesn't really register in my head.

He complies with a hesitant nod, and I smile warmly as he reads it well, though he struggles on one or two words, he figures them out on his own. 

"Great job, Nick." I say as I plop back down in my seat. 

"So, what sort of paperwork? And why do you get so tired?" he asks curiously. 

"Just research about you mostly." I say offhandedly, though I notice his fur puffing up again, I think I might know what that means by now. "And I stay up a lot because I'm an idiot who can't be bothered to look at the clock every now and again." I explain, "I had a small breakthrough a few days back and then I hit another roadblock less than a day after that. It's hard to work through it." 

He gives me an angled, suspicious look, "I thought you said it was relaxing to read a book." 

I scoff, "It  _is_  relaxing. When you don't have to do it. When it's a fiction you're going on an adventure. It doesn't compare. And I  _actually_ said it helps stave off boredom, by the way, though relaxing works too." I roll my sore shoulders and sigh, "This is work, and when it's mandatory or important it's not nearly as much fun." 

He hums and nods, looking to the side with a purse of his lips.

Realizing how that might have come across, I pat his paw gently.

"Granted that's just paperwork. I  _like_ hanging around you." I say to assure that there are no misconceptions. 

"I know." he mumbles, and I leave my paw on his for a moment before I pull it away.

"Just making sure of it." I murmur as I sit back and collect my notes again, looking over them with a sigh. 

 

* * *

 

I've made an appointment to meet with the SCSH board about Nick. I've been making steps with him, I wish with all my being that they could be called strides. But I need a little help to get him there. And so I'm straightening my formal blouse and my white doctor's coat, glancing at the window to be sure my reflection is neat and professional before I enter the room. 

Upon entering I'm greeted with a large polar bear, a deer, and a ram sitting at a rather tall, long table. 

The board is smaller than I thought. 

"Hello, Dr. Hopps." the polar bear stands and approaches me to shake my significantly smaller paw in hers. "Not everyone could make it today, patients and unforeseen circumstances, I'm sure you understand." she explains with a smile. 

I glance at her I.D. for her name and smile back up at her politely. "Not a problem, Dr. Farthest, I hardly needed the entire board's attention." I say. 

She gives a nod and turns to sit down, "Well, let's not waste time then." she gestures for me to sit, though the chair indicated is too big for me to do so. I hop up and stand on the cushion of the chair instead, clearing my throat. 

"It's a simple matter, really." I begin, "As you know, I am working with Mr. Wilde, and his case is rather severe. And while I am making progress, I need a helping paw if I'm going to be successful." 

The deer raises his brow, "What kind of helping paw?" 

I inhale deeply and draw myself up to my full height, "Quite frankly, my patient can hardly be expected to behave like a civilized mammal when he has been isolated from modern society for over two decades. I'm asking that he be allowed television, books, maybe even restricted access to the internet? He needs to learn about the world if he is to be rehabilitated. He can't do that from within a ten by ten room with only his wits to occupy himself." I explain, and all three doctors look contemplative. "My patient does nothing but sleep or stare at the ceiling when I'm not present. That's not healthy and does not help him along with the healing process." 

The ram tilts his head, though he doesn't speak. 

The deer hums and leans back in his seat with a hoof to his chin.

And Farthest gives me a small smile. "Well, Dr. Hopps," she says, pulling out some papers from a drawer along with a pen. "You make a compelling argument, and while I can't speak for my fellow board members, I agree. I do know that no other doctor has ever gotten as far as you have with Wilde. And I know that he is a dissociated fox that cannot be properly rehabilitated without outside influence. He needs socialization, most importantly, but we cannot provide that until he is proven to be stable." 

I nod in agreement. 

"That said, do my fellow board members have any objections to granting the patient some outside stimuli?" she turns to her companions and they both give steady shakes of their heads. "Alright then, I'll have someone sent down to install a television for starters. He can of course have books, though the internet can wait." she says, scribbling something on paper before she stands and offers to shake my hand once more. "You're doing wonderfully, and if you manage this case I can guarantee a promising career in your future." 

"Thank you." I say, blushing lightly at her words and turning to hop off of the chair and make my exit. 

This will help my progress immensely. While it's not as effective as socialization, it's enough for now. Getting Nick caught up with the times and learned in modern day customs will be far easier with media. And he'll be able to access it even when I'm not around, or when he's not having a good enough day for me to have sessions with him. 

Today was a good day. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a question or two is answered and many more pop up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of 2018! Sorry for the delay, I came back home to a fair amount of art commissions and also christmas and family birthdays. It stole my time for a little bit. But I'm back in the run now. Enjoy the chapter!

I've walked into his room more than once to find his muzzle glued to the screen and his attention absolutely captured by whatever he happens to be watching at the time. It's pretty obvious that the television is the best thing to ever happen to him by far. Along with at least partially socializing and modernizing him, the subtitles help him along in his reading skills.

 

He's told me that even on his bad days it can comfort him to have the television on in the background. And I couldn't be more glad to hear it. 

 

I look up from my notes and the phone book I have on hand when he trips and stubs his toe on the way out of the tiny bathroom. 

 

"Fuck!" 

 

I gasp,  _"Nick!!"_

 

Yes, the TV is good for his eventual reintegration into society, I suppose it's a given that foul language has made its way into his vocabulary. I probably should have expected that. Still, it's shocking to hear. 

 

Ups and downs, I guess. 

 

"Geez, what type of shows have you been watching?"

 

"Sorry, that hurt." he pouts as he shambles back to his chair and rubs his foot. 

 

I stare at him for a moment before I chuckle to myself, "Heh, I don't know why I try to correct you. You are an adult, and you're older than me for that matter." I resume my search through the phone book. After what seems like ages I've finally dug up his mother's name, now it's just a matter of finding where she lives. His father's name was there too, along with a passing date, apparently he died not long before Nick was put away. 

 

He shrugs and makes to continue reading his book, and then pauses to look at mine, "Whatcha doing?" 

 

My ear twitches, I'm so used to his old formality that the change in his persona, however gradual, is a bit unnerving. Not to mention his vocabulary, ever growing in slang and curses. 

 

"Reading." 

 

He stands and walks over to look over my shoulder. "Why does it look funny? All those numbers." he points and taps the paper. I look at him with a small smile, he's got that inquisitive slant to his ears that I always find rather adorable. And even with his ever expanding vocabulary and maturity, he still manages to sometimes seem childlike.

 

"It's a phone book, you use it to look up phone numbers and addresses for people and places." I explain.

 

"Oh yeah." he nods, "I heard about those in a movie. Didn't see it though." he saunters back to his chair and hops up to lean over his book with a hum. 

 

I pass him a smile before I continue my perusing of the phone book. 

 

I have grown to love to our sessions, on his tolerable days, or even his great days, I always ask him the same questions. Whether he's noticed a pattern or whether specific things (besides me) trigger his breakdowns. He never has an answer, he's just as confused as I am, I suppose I can't expect him to know anything, but I still ask. After that I help him with his reading, or I investigate his case. Or sometimes we talk, and he'll tell me what movie he just watched or what Discovery program he's learned something new from. That's always my favorite. He forgets he's locked away in here if only for a minute and he gets this foreign twinkle in his eye that replaces the fear and the caution that's always present otherwise. It's a beautiful thing, I am truly fortunate to witness his growth.

 

He glances up at me idly, and then once more once he realizes I'm looking at him.

 

His eyes dart from side to side, and then his fur puffs up around his neck, "What?" 

 

I shrug, "Nothing, just thinking." 

 

He shifts in place, "About what?" 

 

"About things." I supply with a wry grin as I return once more to my work. 

 

"Isn't that avoiding the question or something? Mammals talk like that when they don't want to say what they are really thinking." he asks with a raise of his brow.

 

I press my paw to my brow and scoff a laugh, "I still can't decide if getting you a TV was a good idea." 

 

"So...I'm right?" he prods.

 

I roll my shoulders back and cringe at the crick in my neck, "Not necessarily. It's just a lot to explain and I'm a bit tired." I say, and I watch the myriad of emotions run across his face before I add, "Listen, you don't need to worry about me hiding things from you, I wouldn't do that. And anything I don't tell you now I will tell you later, when it's right to." I promise, almost reaching a paw out to place it upon his before I let it hover in the air momentarily. My senses wash over me in an instant and I withdraw my raised paw in embarrassment. I shouldn't be so intimate, it's not professional.

 

Even while I keep my gaze on the book I can feel his stare, I wonder with a burning self consciousness if he noticed my mixup. 

 

I jolt and gasp when he places his paw over mine instead. He's not looking at me anymore, but rather focusing on his book, his fur all puffed up and his skin pink underneath his white fur. 

 

I stare at his paw, so much bigger than my own and warm, the fur velvety against the pink pads of my fingers. I've felt it before but it seems so much more vivid now and I don't really want to know why just yet. 

 

"Okay." he murmurs almost an eternity later, and I gulp as I try to figure how I can pull my paw away just so I can think properly again. I don't want him to get the impression that I don't  _want_ him to hold my paw...

 

It's just that I'm not supposed to. Not in this way, it's innocent, granted, but I know it's not quite a patient-doctor thing. It's something more...and it shouldn't be. 

 

I exhale long and low as he hesitantly pulls his paw back and crosses his arms against the table, hiding his expression from me while his tail swings to and fro over the edge of the chair. A nervous habit, I've come to understand. 

 

Neither of us speak for the remainder of the session. 

 

•

•

 

I'm glad it's over the weekend that I finally find her name: Vivian Tilly Wilde. Her address a small complex just a little ways off of Sahara Central and into Downtown. Not a great neighborhood, but not terrible either. It's with both trepidation and excitement that I gather my phone, wallet, and keys to make for her home. For one, I may find some missing pieces to my ever-complicated puzzle, and secondly I may be able to get her visitation rights at the hospital. Maybe Nick will see his mother for the first time in just over twenty years. 

 

I do know from his records that she was allowed to see him for a time when he was still a young kit. Her visitation rights mysteriously fizzled out around five years after he was put there. Something that shouldn't have happened, considering she is his mother and family should always have the right to visit. It saddens me to think that Nick might have had no explanation as to why she suddenly stopped coming. And so young too. 

 

My ears fall flat against my head at the thought, my chest aching with sympathy for his pain, despite that it's probably long passed. 

 

I clear my throat to bury the emotion and pay the cabby when he pulls up in front of the complex. I thank him absentmindedly and begin my walk into the complex. Well, okay, it's definitely not a great neighborhood, not quite unkempt and bordering on...well, ghetto. Yet another saddening item on the docket today. 

 

I make my way to her building and ascend the stairs, slipping past a couple otters smoking on the stairs on my way and wanting to hide when I feel their curious gazes on me. I look over my shoulder anxiously as I approach her door number, pausing to admire it. The door has a couple flower pots on either side of the entrance, along with a yellow welcome mat. It does indeed seem most warm and welcoming. I glance over my shoulder at the neighbors once more as I knock, three taps of my knuckles against the wood. And I step back and clear my throat as the door opens only moments later. 

 

The vixen that meets my eyes is still lovely, despite being well over middle-aged. Her red fur is speckled gray throughout, her eyes wrinkled around the edges as she peers at me curiously. 

 

"Mrs. Wilde?" I inquire, smiling kindly as I try to appear warm and friendly as possible. 

 

"That's me, who are you?" she opens the door a little further and hugs her shawl to her chest as she crosses her arms. A motion I've seen Nick do a thousand times, but rather with his hospital gown instead, and with a snarky attitude rather than the calm inquisitiveness that she portrays. 

 

"I'm Doctor Judy Hopps." I show her my license, "I...I work with your son, Nick. And I'm here to ask a couple questions." 

 

She's covered her muzzle with a paw, brown eyes twinkling with sudden tears and I feel guilty for saying anything about Nick. "You've seen him? My little Nicholas?" she gestures for me to enter, closing and locking the door behind me.

 

She points to the couch with a slight smile, as much as she can manage with her trembling lips. 

 

"Yes." I say as I sit. "From what I read you haven't been allowed to see him for years." 

 

She visibly deflates, standing and hanging her head with a sigh, "You would be right." 

 

"And from what I understand, family always has visitation rights." I continue, settling my bag upon my lap. In fact, a law passed a few years back actually removed the limitation of family only, and anybody given permission by family or requested by the patient can visit. So the fact that she hasn't been allowed to visit deeply concerns me.

 

"How is he?" 

 

The question almost catches me off guard. I have a hard time offering her a smile, she's so sad, her body language and her face positively pulse with waves of pain and sorrow. But I smile softly regardless, thinking of Nick eases my way. "I've been working with Nick just about two months now. He's doing well, at least I think so." 

 

She presses her paw to her chest and inhales deeply, her lips curling into the slightest smile. "That's good." she murmurs. "Does he eat well?" 

 

I look to the side sensing an onslaught of motherly questions incoming, "Yes he's fed regularly." 

 

"How does he look?" 

 

That question brings back the memory of when I walked in on him, and I clear my threat as I answer in a near-cough, "Healthy....Mrs. Wilde, I came here because I have some information that I need to double check." I say before she can ask anything else. 

 

She blinks, obviously confused. But she soon sits down on her sofa beside me and nods, "No doctor has ever come by before, at least not after they stopped letting me see him. Much less to ask questions." 

 

"Well, no doctors have dug as deep as me before, from what I gather." I say, pulling my documents from my bag. "I just need to clarify some things, because quite frankly, I've grown...suspicious." I explain as I sort through the papers. 

 

"Suspicious?" she echoes, her ears perking. 

 

"I'll show you what I mean." I place the police report and the medical record in front of her on her coffee table. "Can you try to point out the difference?" I urge. 

 

She pulls some glasses from her pocket and situates them on her muzzle before she picks up one parchment and reads it through. It's obviously difficult for her and I hate to do this, but I need to know that I'm not overthinking this. She's once again visibly upset as she picks up the opposite paper and reads it in kind. 

 

She blinks, then reads the other, and repeats it one or twice more before she looks at me in bewilderment. "The diagnosis." is all she says. 

 

I nod, "Can you tell me which one is accurate?" 

 

"The medical report. My Nick wasn't ever violent prior to the incident, he was the sweetest little kit you ever did meet." she says quietly. 

 

"Mrs. Wilde-" 

 

"Call me Vivian, dear." 

 

"Vivian," I correct myself with a soft smile, "I really hate to ask this of you, but could you tell me what happened that day if you were there? I've asked Nick, but he can't seem to remember." 

 

She gives me a sad look, giving a deep sigh as she nods and looks down at her lap, "Yes, I...I can." 

 

She's silent for a time, long enough that I am ready to prod when she finally begins.

 

"I used to be the hired help at Mr. Bellwether's estate. Nice ram, he paid a decent wage and treated his employees just as well." she shifts in place before continuing, her demeanor reminding me vividly of her son. "Nick often came with me to work after his daddy was in that car wreck. He befriended Bellwether's daughter, sweet little lamb, couple of years older than him. They would share toys, play in the lawns, he even helped her pick apples in their orchards one year. They got along so well, but one day there was a scuffle between em." her breath hitches and she pauses to sigh and rub the bridge of her nose, "I get there and he's got his teeth sunk in her leg, though that was only the last place he'd ravaged. I must have stared for ages before I got the right mind to act. Frankly, I couldn't believe my eyes. Never in my wildest dreams could I have fathomed that sight, Doctor Hopps." she looks at me with an old pain in her eyes, "Not in a million years."

I am riveted by her words, she's answering and creating so many questions. I place my paw over hers comfortingly as I wait for her to continue. 

 

She looks back down at her lap as she continues, "Little Dawn was screaming something awful and I couldn't pry him off her. His eyes were all feral and wild, I've never seen anything like it, even when he was mad at me he never looked so terrifying. And he was my little kit." she sniffles, "My little boy didn't even recognize me. He...he snapped at my arm, held onto it like a vice, and I let him, cause even when biting me, at least he wasn't attacking that lamb anymore." she pulls up her sleeve and I scrutinize the thin scars on her forearm with a light cringe. 

 

"He attacked  _you?"_  I ask, realizing that his report only outlines prey he's attacked, never predators. Why would a boy with a  _predatory_ disposition attack his own mother? 

 

"He wasn't himself, I could tell. Something must have happened to him, he was yowling and barking and growling at everyone for the next few days. When he came to himself maybe four days later and started crying, asked me what was going on...I could only tell him he was sick. He-" her voice breaks, "He panicked, he was muzzled and restrained, I couldn't help him. If I thought seeing him feral was bad...you cannot imagine what it felt like to see him so distressed...it-"

 

She pauses to gulp down a sob and presses her paw to her lips to steady herself. She stays that way for a time, breathing deep, and I wait patiently as she composes herself, my own eyes welling with yet unshed tears. 

 

She continues so suddenly I am startled. 

 

"Mr. Bellwether let me go from my job a few days later, pressed charges on Nick, and my boy was in that asylum before I could even blink. Without my job I couldn't get a lawyer, I couldn't even get him a fair trial. Nobody listened to me when I told them that something  _must_ have happened to my boy. They'd say a fox wasn't trustworthy and brush me off." she sighs, "I haven't seen him in  _twenty years_ , Doctor Hopps. They didn't warn me, they just stopped letting me see him. They didn't even let me say goodbye to my baby boy." 

 

I shuffle closer and allow her to lean against me, letting her cry and patting her shoulder soothingly. "I'm so sorry, Vivian." 

 

"I just wish I could see him again. I'm getting along and I'm running out of time." 

 

I smile bitterly, "Don't be like that, you've got a long life ahead of you yet. And if I have any say, Nick will be out of there within the next couple years. I'm not going to let this rest." I assure her. "And I'll do everything I can to try for visitation rights." 

 

She squeezes my paw, smiling through her tears, "Thank you." 

 

"You could help me out a little more, Vivian." I pull out my clipboard and my pen, "If he went to school, could I get the name?" 

 

"Of course, he was such a smart boy. It was Flock Elementary. On Flock Street." she says, "I still have his blue ribbon from his science project when he was seven." 

 

"That's lovely." I say, having written down the school. Perhaps his teachers can offer more opinions on his childhood demeanor. 

 

"Will you stay for tea?" she asks, "I'll show it to you." 

 

"Of course! And if you have any childhood stories of him I'd love to hear them." 

 

Indeed she does. Many, many tales and two cups of tea later I am leaving, collecting my things and giving Vivian a hug, I already feel like she's an old friend. Her personality is so friendly and kind that I very much enjoyed the hours spent in her company. 

 

She stops me on my way out the door, "Judy, dear," she says, and I pause at the door. She looks to the side and takes a deep breath, "Don't get his hopes up, I'd prefer if he doesn't know I might see him until it's certain. I could stand the heartbreak, but I'm sure  _he_ couldn't." she says.

 

I nod, "Of course, I did plan on telling him  _when_ I got your visitation rights, rather than before." 

 

She smiles and pats my paw, "Thank you. You are a kind soul, Judy." 

 

•

•

 

_The grass is so green, the trees sway in the breeze and the sky is bright blue. There's a little wooden car in my paws, painted yellow. I remember this place. I've been here before._

_"Nick!"_

_I look up from my toy and smile at her, "Hi Dawn!"_

_"I got a new toy! Look, it's an elephant!" she presents it to me with the proudest grin, and my tail wags in excitement when she lets me hold it. It's plush and soft and smells like berries._

_"It's amazing!" I hand it back to her and proceed to play with my little car._

_"I figured since I have so many plushes I should give one to you." she gets my attention with a little stuffed fish, with the glass eyes and the felt scales. It's always been my favorite._

_I gasp and clutch it delicately, "But it's_ your  _toy-"_

_"And I want you to have it. You're my best friend and you just don't get enough toys."_

_I'm so touched, and I don't know what to say. "Thank you."_

 

I wake up with a start, blinking away the sleep as I realize it was a dream. No...a memory? 

 

I sit up and look at the clock. It's four in the morning... _aaand_  I have to take a piss. The dream fades into the lost recesses of my mind as I head to the bathroom, yawning. I haven't felt so...normal...in ages. If I weren't in a mental hospital right now, and if it weren't for my occasional bad days, I could almost believe I was a regular fox. 

 

Judy has been impressed, I can tell, and I like that she has been. It feels good to be able to carry a conversation, and to watch the silly videos on her phone, see pictures of the outside and of her home, read books, and watch television (movies are a true delight that I can't believe I didn't remember). My world is slowly changing and I could not be happier for it.

 

I haven't had to force her from my room for a week, maybe more. It's exhilarating. Is she...actually  _fixing_  me? 

 

That thought comforts me immensely on the way to my mattress and back into sleep, her shirt clutched in my paws and pressed to my chest. I smile as my dreams consume me again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to one of the chapters I am most anxious to post, I really can't wait to get there.


End file.
